


Pipe Dreams

by aDarkerKnight



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-28
Updated: 2008-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-21 23:22:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aDarkerKnight/pseuds/aDarkerKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How do you wake up from a nightmare, when you're not asleep?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pipe Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://genclay.livejournal.com/profile)[**genclay**](http://genclay.livejournal.com/) \- with thanks for [this absolutely awesome illustration](http://genclay.livejournal.com/5396.html), and for igniting the little spark that became this story.
> 
> Waves and thanks to Jessi for the once-over, the encouragement and all the help. (oh! and the song suggestions too, cause she has the best ones!)

Bruce woke up panting and sweating profusely. For a moment, he lay still, eyes closed, the images in his mind as vivid as ever. It wasn't a nightmare - not by any stretch of the imagination. But this wasn't a dream he wanted to have. It wasn't a dream he could afford to have. Yet, for the last few weeks, it would come back to him every night, like clockwork, and it was turning his life into a nightmare. A very real nightmare. He could no longer ignore the images, even in his wakeful state, and they were starting to distract him from his tasks, from the mission.

As always, after waking up from this particular dream, one hand mechanically reached for the box of tissues on the nightstand, as his other hand disappeared into his briefs and wrapped around the rock hard erection his nighttime fantasies had left him with. Release would come a short few minutes later, though it never brought him any true satisfaction. It was nothing compared to what he felt in his dreams; this was just a means to rid himself of the tension so he could get back to sleep. It wasn't nearly enough - it would never be - but it was all he had. It was all he'd ever have, for this was one dream which would forever remain unfulfilled.

Tonight, the dream had been different; better than the nights before. Tonight he'd heard his voice. Heard the words, whispered against his ear. The longing in them, the desire.

_"I want you..."_

Long after the hushed cries of ecstasy, after the tissues had been disposed of, after Bruce had rolled on his side in bed, sinking his face into the coolness of the other pillow, the words still rolled around in his head. Like a mantra, repeated over and over, they came back to his conscious mind even as he tried to chase them away. The more he fought against them, the louder they rang in his ears.

Frustrated, he rolled out of bed, threw on some sweats, and headed to the training room, intent on burning off the stress, exhausting himself completely, so that he may find sleep again later.

But sleep did not come tonight. Even after dawn had long broken, and Alfred had walked into the master bedroom, carrying breakfast on a silver serving tray, Bruce was still furiously trying to bench-press the memories away.

His efforts remained in vain.

=:=:=

It was a frazzled and sleep deprived Batman who walked into the Watchtower's conference room that morning. His jaw clenched tightly, lips pressed together in a thin line, he sat in silence, something which was uncommon, even for a man as stingy with words as he was.

By the time Superman got done with his usual, weekly briefing, Batman was breathing heavily, and desperately trying to keep his heart rate under control. He hadn't heard a single word, the entire meeting so far. Only the voice that kept echoing in his head.

_"I want you..."_

Clark's voice. Husky and low. Slowly driving him to the brink of insanity.

So far, he had always managed to push the fantasies to the back of his mind when he'd been working on his own in Gotham. But when he was out on a mission with the JLA - when he was working with Superman - this became increasingly difficult. The other man's voice constantly in his ear, over the comm line, had become synonymous with distraction. But now... now, Bruce feared that he'd no longer be able to hear the words Superman would actually say, replaced instead by the ones his imagination fed him - words he ached to hear so desperately. Words that would never be uttered, not to him, and certainly not over the comm.

He needed a way out. And he needed it _now_.

Fists clutching the hem of his cape tightly, Bruce sprang off his chair, storming out of the room, oblivious to the surprised looks and exclamations from his teammates.

Taking refuge in the darkness of his personal quarters, he started formulating plans, working out ways in which to rearrange the teams so that he would no longer be paired off with Superman on any given mission. Bruce saw no other possible solution, short of an exorcism.

People came by, knocking on his door, hoping to find out what was troubling him so. He ignored all of them: Diana's heartfelt pleas for him to come out and talk, J'onn's attempts to touch his mind, and especially Clark's gentle assurances that everything would be fine if he'd just let them help.

"Everything will _not_ be fine!" Bruce had shouted, exasperated, at one point that evening. "Leave me alone. Just leave me the hell alone!"

"You know how to find me, if you change your mind," Clark had replied, in that sickeningly soft and kind voice of his. His normal speaking voice, Bruce noted, not the official Superman tone he normally used on everyone else while they were up here.

Yanking off the cowl he'd still had on, Bruce threw it against the door, irritated. "Go away, Clark," he growled, in the most menacing Batman voice he could muster. "I don't want to talk to you."

He heard the sigh on the other side of the door and chose to ignore it, though the rather dejected tone in which Clark had replied "Fine," had him frowning for a moment. Bruce shrugged it away, returning to his plan as though nothing had happened.

=:=:=

The next morning, having called an extraordinary meeting of the JLA, Batman handed out new team assignations, new personal assignments. To everyone's surprise - and certain more vocal members' complaints and criticism - Superman had now been relegated to the training of new recruits. He would no longer join in on any field mission.

Superman himself said nothing about the unexpected turn of events, though he was just as stunned as anyone else. He knew better than to challenge Batman's decisions, his motives, in front of the entire assembly. Any such behavior would constitute a vote of non-confidence, and being as though he'd somehow found himself in the Bat's doghouse, he knew better than to say anything openly. He'd bring it up privately later, assuming his friend would let him, which, judging by his behavior from the previous night, was probably a long shot. He hadn't even once looked him in the eyes as he'd set forth his plan today.

Wounded, though he tried his best to hide it from everyone, Clark simply nodded his consent when asked whether he understood what his new tasks entailed. Gasps echoed in the room, but no one dared say anything at all - if even Superman went along with the madness that was Batman's plan, they saw no real point in arguing about it, knowing fully well that their opinion did not hold the same weight that the Kryptonian's had in such circumstances.

The meeting came to a close and everyone slowly exited the room, looks of concern and various degrees of consternation on their faces. Superman was the last one to leave, his mind still reeling in confusion as he desperately tried to understand, to figure out what could possibly have happened to cause Batman to react this way.

For the life of him, Clark could not see what he could possibly have done to fail his friend in such a way that he'd elect to punish him so. And worse yet, why Bruce so adamantly refused to talk to him. It made no sense. No sense at all.

And it hurt. It really did. Deep inside, this hurt more than kryptonite ever had, more than harsh words ever could. He had somehow lost his friend's trust, his respect. He didn't even know how, or why, only that he had.

All he knew was that he'd lost something precious, something cherished. And he hadn't any idea how to fix this - not the faintest idea.

=:=:=

At first, everyone tried as best they could to go along with the new plan. But after a while, force was to admit that it wasn't working at all. Though they all made every effort to work with new teammates, things weren't going anywhere as smoothly as they should have been - as smoothly as they used to before. The dynamics weren't the same, and no matter how hard everyone tried, the teams just didn't click. People were unhappy and it showed. Even the fun-loving Flash looked miserable, though no one looked even remotely as downhearted as Superman did.

Superman, who was usually companionable and always had encouraging words for everyone, was now quiet and distant. The usual warm, friendly smile seemed permanently gone from his handsome face. To everyone else, he looked merely preoccupied, perhaps a little absent, but to his friends... To his friends he appeared to be downright depressed. He stood with an ever so slight slump of the shoulders, his voice lacked its usual cheerful, happy quality, and his eyes had lost their sparkle. But Superman never once complained - not to anyone.

As for Batman, he'd gone from keeping to himself to being downright reclusive. They barely ever saw him, though he continued to lead the teams and bark orders at them, never letting them forget who was in charge. For a while, the Lanterns, and Ollie, too, had tried to knock some sense into him - but Batman refused to listen. If they weren't happy with the way things were, he'd told them in no uncertain terms, he'd be more than happy to revoke their league membership. The suggestion, accompanied by a nasty Bat-glare had shocked them into silence and submission. No one had even come close to bringing up the issue with the Dark Knight for some time after that.

The breaking point, for Diana, came when Superman took her aside one afternoon and informed her of his decision to leave. To quit the League. He'd even hinted to the fact that he might leave Earth for some time, while the dust settled. At that moment, Diana knew that she had to take matters into her own hands - things could not go on this way, and she would not let them. She couldn't sit idly by anymore and watch as the Justice League self-destructed. She would not watch two of her closest friends suffer unnecessarily any longer. She'd find out what was going on, and she'd make sure that problems were resolved, teams put back together properly, and most importantly, that friendships were mended. She'd put everything back together again, and she'd use brute force to make it happen if she had to. Things just could not go on this way.

Diana first tried to pry any sort of information she could out of Clark. Getting him to open up wasn't nearly as complicated as getting something out of Bruce, after all. But it was clear that Clark was as clueless as the rest of them - if not even a little more. While it was obvious to anyone looking that, at the heart of this 'thing', was a Superman-Batman issue of some kind, it was rather unsettling to find that Superman himself couldn't figure out what it was.

Whatever had prompted Bruce to make such drastic changes, Clark had no idea. He hadn't been consulted, hadn't been informed. He had tried on numerous occasions to get Bruce to explain, but all his efforts had been in vain. Batman was as tightlipped as a politician at a Senatorial hearing on misuse of government funds. Worse yet, while Batman did address other members of the League when necessary, he hadn't said more than two words to Superman since that day when Batman had started on his dictatorial stint.

In the end, all Diana had been able to get out of Clark was that he somehow blamed himself for everything. She wasn't surprised to hear him say it, though it saddened her that he would. Sadder even was that he had decided to up and leave, not knowing how else to make things better. And she knew he'd tried, but rather than stir trouble, the Boy Scout had logically opted for the one solution which had the most impact on himself, and the least on everyone else.

Leaving Superman alone with his thoughts and worries, she headed immediately over to Batman's private quarters. She'd knocked several times - politely at first, then more insistently - but all she'd gotten in response were a few expletives she'd have rather never heard, coming from his mouth.

So, taking a deep breath, Wonder Woman had forced open the door and barged into the Bat's sanctuary away from the Batcave. He'd protested of course, loudly and profusely, but she had stood there, hands on her hips, impassible, until he finally gave up trying.

"Fine," he spat, irate, "you have my undivided attention. What do you want?"

"Fix this mess," she told him simply, her face devoid of any expression he could read.

He raised a challenging eyebrow. "What mess?"

She cocked her head to the side slightly, lips pursed and brow furrowed, silently letting him know that sarcasm would get him nowhere.

"What?" he shot her. "Look, perhaps you don't agree, but I'm doing this for the team. Change is good. People evolve, they get better at what they do and everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves--"

"Oh, right." Diana all but snorted. "This is why you've put one of the most powerful, most useful member of the team in the least useful and rewarding role any of us can possibly think of. In what universe does this even begin to make sense, Bruce?"

"New recruits need training, Diana. You know this as well as I do. And who better to take on such a task than Superman? He's patient, he knows how to encourage and motivate - I can't think of a better role model, a better mentor for the new guys. Can you?"

"Point taken. But surely you've had to notice how unhappy everyone is? How unhappy _Clark_ is. Bruce, he's absolutely miserable. You can't stand here and expect me to believe that this very obvious fact had escaped your astute powers of observation."

"He'll get over it." Bruce shrugged. Of course he'd noticed, and while it pained him to see Clark this way, he knew that this was for the best. The best for the team. And for himself.

"No. He won't," she insisted. "Maybe you can stand to be miserable 365 days out of every year, but as invulnerable as his body is, his heart and mind aren't. He's literally withering away, convinced that he's somehow failed you."

Bruce frowned in puzzlement. "Failed _me_? He's _Superman_ \- the guy wouldn't know how to fail at anything even if he tried."

"Yes, and you're Bruce Wayne, just an ordinary Earth man in a Kevlar armor, but one whose prowess in battle can equal his own. He respects you, he looks up to you, but now he thinks he's failed you, failed an ally and a friend. And even he doesn't know how or why. Would you just please talk to him, at least?"

"There's nothing to talk about," Bruce answered, his expression stony and his tone as cold as ice.

"Then put the teams back the way they ought to be, Bruce. Fix this. _Now_. Before it's too late."

"Things are _fine_ the way they are. Everyone needs a period of adjustment, it's only normal."

"No, Bruce, things are not fine," Diana protested, crossing her arms in front of her chest in defiance. "These teams do not work and no amount of _adjustment_ will make them work, either. There's a reason why the old teams worked - and it's not a question of skill, it's a question of understanding. Understanding on levels that cannot be learned. You work well with Superman - you two understand one another, you know how each other think, that is why your team works. You teaming with Flash...makes everyone miserable. Especially Wally. Put the teams back the way they should be, Bruce."

"No."

"This isn't a dictatorship, Bruce, and you do not have final say. If you won't do what needs to be done, then we will do it for you." She knew Batman to seem unreasonable at times, but in the end he always had a reason for everything; one he could explain, one that made sense. Not like this.

"The teams stay," he told her, eyes narrow as anger started boiling in his veins again. He might not have final say, but they _had_ put him in charge. Democratically.

Diana sighed, annoyed. If he kept this up, she'd be forced to do the unthinkable and use her lasso to force him to tell her what was really going on. But she didn't want to do this unless she'd exhausted all other methods of persuasion, and she had one last card up her sleeve. She hoped it would prove to be an ace.

"Fine, then." She shrugged in a clearly exaggerated manner. "Well, I hope you can carry the guilt of having driven Superman away. He's just told me of his intention to leave."

A look of surprise came and went almost instantaneously on Bruce's face. "Anyone's allowed to quit the League if they choose to, there isn't--"

"Oh, no, no, no," Diana said over her shoulder as she exited the room. "He's not _just_ quitting the League, Bruce. He's going away. Leaving Earth. Good luck carrying the blame for that, my friend."

=:=:=

Bruce stood, rooted in place for what seemed like an eternity. Leaving _Earth_? That couldn't be right - he'd obviously misunderstood what Diana had said. Clark would never leave Earth for good, there was just no way. Granted he wasn't _from_ Earth, but he'd been raised here, this was his _home_. He'd never leave it behind.

Right?

Suddenly Bruce wasn't so sure anymore. And while he could certainly live with his friend's resignation from the Justice League, he very much doubted that he could live with himself knowing that he was the reason why Superman had decided to abandon Earth. As much as he didn't want to end up a patient in Arkham for having recurring erotic dreams about his friend, he did not think that getting rid of a few unhinging nighttime fantasies would be worth this sort of guilt.

Fine then, he'd talk to him. Keep him from leaving, somehow. Keep him from leaving without having to explain the real reasons why he'd taken such drastic measures with the direction of the League, of course. Because he couldn't do that. He couldn't tell him about that. Clark would not understand, and so it was better that he never find out. Better for Bruce too. Besides, fantasies died down eventually, just as crushes went away with time. He just needed time enough for that to happen, and then things would be back to normal.

Yes. If he could just buy himself a little more time, convince Clark to go along with this plan just for a short while still, things would surely pass. They always did. And then he would put the teams back together again the way they used to be.

Yes. That's what he would do.

Bruce walked out of the room, each step filled with more determination than the last as he made his way down the hall to Clark's quarters.

He knocked in his usual, curt manner and waited, listening for the footsteps he knew would be headed toward the door shortly. But there were none. The light was on, however, and Bruce knew that Clark never left it on unless he was there - preserving energy, just like the Boy Scout everyone knew he was. So he knocked again.

"Just come in, already," he heard Clark calling from inside the room. "It's not locked, you know."

Bruce frowned momentarily. This was a slightly unusual reaction, he knew. Then again, Diana had told him that Clark wasn't exactly in his usual state of mind, either. Shrugging to himself, he opened the door and walked in to find Clark lying on his bed, arms crossed behind his head.

Clark didn't get up at all; he simply turned his head in the direction of the door, looking at the man who'd just walked in.

The instant their eyes met, Bruce was hit full force with the realization that this - this infatuation - wasn't going to pass. It _wasn't_ an infatuation - it was something more, much more than that. And it wasn't a temporary thing, either. Not at all. It was a deep, all-encompassing feeling, and he very much doubted that any length of time would help it pass. This went beyond any manner of crush he'd ever had.

And now he was trapped. He'd come all the way here; he couldn't just say he'd changed his mind, then turn away and leave. He cleared his throat nervously, looking for the right words to say, the right thing to do. They didn't come to him.

After a moment, Clark sat up on his bed. "Well, don't just stand there. Have a seat."

Bruce ignored the invitation, opting to stand instead. He was fine right where he stood. At a safe distance. Yes, this was definitely better.

"So, you're leaving?" he asked finally, pointing to the partially packed suitcase sitting on the floor, at the foot of the bed.

Clark shrugged. "It's for the best."

"But we, uh... You're _needed_ here." For a fleeting second, Bruce wondered whether he was really speaking on behalf of the League, or simply for himself.

"Look, Bruce..." Clark drew a long breath before going on. "Training rookies isn't--"

"They need proper training," Bruce objected immediately.

"Of course they do, but this isn't the way we do things. It's never been. Rookies learn best when they're on the field with us. You have to trust them, team them with people who'll work well with them, not have me babysitting a group of them. I don't know why you're making all these changes. We had a system before - it worked fine. This doesn't."

"I just thought they would benefit from your experience, your leadership. These kids need a good role model, someone like you. This is a good thing - for the long run. A positive change." Bruce hoped that his arguments were convincing enough, but the truth was that he was less than convinced himself.

"Bruce, they're not _kids_ ," Clark replied, raising an eyebrow. "And, sure, having someone mentoring new team members is a good thing, but seriously, by the time they're even considered for membership, they're old enough and wise enough to hold their own. They don't need me. What they need is a vote of confidence, to be shown that we believe in them, that we trust them. Like you used to trust and believe in me, once upon a time."

Bruce blinked, his mouth hanging open slightly. "I still do," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Well, you could have fooled me," Clark said dejectedly. "You won't work with me - or speak to me anymore. I... thought we were _friends_."

"We were!" Bruce replied before immediately amending, "I mean, we _are_. We still are."

"If you say so... But you can't pretend that everything's just as before. I'm not really a naïve farm boy, you know, I only play one in my public life." Clark got up from his bed and started pacing, over by the window. "Look, whatever it is, would you just tell me? Because for the life of me I have no idea what I've done to anger you, why you've suddenly taken a dislike in me."

Bruce hesitantly took a couple of steps forward, and then he stopped abruptly, uncertain why he'd started walking in the first place. "I'm not angry. And I _don't_ dislike you. I just think that change is good and--"

"That's just bullshit, Bruce!" Clark all but shouted, turning to face him. "Stop feeding me lines. This change is _not_ good. For any of us. There's something wrong, but you refuse to tell me - or anyone for that matter - what it is. Please? Please, at least do me the courtesy of telling me the truth."

Bruce sighed, hanging his head in defeat. "I... I cant. I-- If I say nothing at all, you'll leave. And if I say anything, you'll... you'll just leave as well. Except then I'll have lost whatever respect you still have for me. So I think, in this case it's better if I say nothing at all. I'm sorry."

Clark walked up to him. "Lose my respect?" he asked. His tone seemed somewhat astounded, but Bruce did not look up to see the expression on his face. "Nothing you could say or do could ever--"

"Yes," Bruce cut in, looking up to find Clark standing dangerously close to him. "This could. This _will_."

Exasperation was clear on Clark's features. "For goodness sake, Bruce! Would you _please_ stop dancing around the issue?" His voice was low, almost menacing. "Whatever's on your mind, I want you to tell me."

Bruce's breath caught in his chest, the all too familiar words resonating in his ears.

_"I want you..."_

With just three words, as out of context as they might have been, Bruce's entire thought process was shot. Cheeks burning, breathing heavily, eyes no longer able to focus, he grabbed Clark by the front of his shirt and spun him toward the wall, pinning him against it. Clark gasped in shock, but whatever protests he might have meant to express were lost in what quickly turned into a fierce and demanding kiss.

Bruce took everything he could from this kiss, certain that there would never be any repeat performances. Until suddenly he froze, then pulled away, panting and confused.

"You're not resisting," he stated lamely.

Clark hadn't pushed him away. And given how strong, how powerful he was, pushing his assailant away shouldn't have been a problem at all. But he hadn't. He'd let Bruce kiss him. Willingly let him.

"Resist?" Clark echoed, with a small, almost amused smile. "Why would I resist? Why would I resist when I've wanted this for so long?" His voice lowered progressively as he spoke, the last words coming out as just a low growl.

Disbelief clouded Bruce's mind. "You-- what? You wanted this? But-- But... What about Lois? I thought you...?"

Clark frowned, though he still seemed amused. "Billionaire Bruce Wayne has movie stars, small-time reporter Clark Kent has Lois Lane. I'm no more interested in her than you are in them. They just serve a purpose, in the grand scheme of things."

It was Bruce's turn to frown. "But you never said anything..."

"I saw no point in burdening you with the knowledge of something you had no interest in."

"Yet..." Bruce shook his head, trying to make sense of everything. "Yet you knew that movie stars and pop idols meant nothing to me."

"Well, yes, that much was obvious." Clark couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "But that... that didn't mean you weren't interested in women. Or that you could possibly have that sort of interest in _me_ , for that matter. Apparently, we're both very good at keeping secrets."

"Enough with secrets already..." Bruce whispered as he leaned in for another kiss.

=:=:=

The next morning, at the daily briefing, Batman informed his colleagues that, effective immediately, team operations would return to the way they'd always been.

"So, you guys finally kiss and make up, then?" Wally joked, looking alternatively at Batman and Superman.

Clark chuckled. "Something like that," he said with a crooked smile, as he caught Bruce's surreptitious wink, from the other end of the conference table.

~ The End ~


End file.
